Sordid and Sickly, the feeling of 1:53 AM. The student stares into the LED, the Grizzled drunk drives on in the Core of the Night, the child awakes Stirring alone in the dark of Night's Nadir. The scholar reads his Eliot And writes his Yeats under the lamplight In the core of the Night, the Eyes of the madman are bright and the Eyes of the Cherub Cat are brighter.The new convert tosses and turns in his bed, the Old Saint cries quiet in his bed in the Core of the Night; here, the Artist is finishing up a long night, thePoet is awake and sordid and sickly The feeling of night-- weighs heavily, it is weighing Here in the Core of the Night in theHeart of the Night the Dark Bosom of the night, the Heartbeat place, pulse place of drums in the night whereTalking is done with, the clock has sounded-- they Are all truly in the Dark now.

I was thinking of Smart's "For I Will Consider My Cat Geoffrey" and it has this line about the "Cherub Cat" as this watchful, almost angelic guardian in the gloom who makes the rounds of the house to keep the forces of dark at bay. It's just comes back to me sometimes, that excerpt, and it'll float around in my head for a day or so.